


Journey of Solitude

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Loneliness, Nicknames, Residency
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 22:51:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5946252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of when Neal's journey of solitude began and ended, and of how he met Mike Leighton.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey of Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I just started listening to "Kodoku na Junrei," and realized of how much Neal could have felt this loneliness starting at Angles. Here is the link if you want to listen to the music. I love the relationship between Neal and Mike, but tell me if they seem out of character. Tell me what you think please!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jLFg30ACkY0

_Journey of Solitude_

 

            Neal Hudson didn’t know what he was doing here. His dark eyes continued to survey the dark halls and the nurses and doctors running with controlled chaos in the ER. It had been more than six months since he had arrived from London, a surgical resident who was completely daft to apply to one of the toughest residency programs in the country to study emergency medicine. _The States is such a strange place,_ the dark-haired resident thought as he observed the younger residents laughing and talking in the break room. _They drive on the right side of the road here, and I tried to order food without success._ Angels was not what he had expected. Although he had told his father that he was applying to the program, the neurosurgeon didn’t believe him – asking him why waste his time with manual labor instead of focusing on his talent, surgery. Neal hadn’t remembered what he said to him – heated words no doubt, more than likely not calling his father by the tame git that he often referred to him as in his sleep, as he tried to remember why he had gotten the idea to study under his father.

            Neal had expected that his father would demanded for him to return home, to where he belonged with patients who didn’t ask to _“please, again, you accent is so thick,”_ and where he could come home and attempt at a civil conversation instead of arriving in his _apartment_ alone and having not much sleep without anyone to talk to. The only slight company that the resident had was Hector, the slightly round Mexican who owned the restaurant across from the hospital and smiled when an exhausted Neal came in after one grueling shift. _“What will you have,_ hermoso medico _?”_ Neal hadn’t even glanced at the menu, simply telling the as-of-yet unnamed restaurant owner to order whatever he thought was best. The resident closed his eyes for a moment before they blinked open to find a newspaper that hadn’t been there before. There was a small wink aimed at him before the man who called him _handsome doctor_ exited into the kitchen. _I will sleep better after I eat,_ the dark-haired resident decided after opening the paper. He began to read slowly, the words not truly having any actual meaning as the memory of the shift burned in his mind. When the man, who introduced himself at Hector, asked him if he wanted anything, Neal off-handedly replied that he would like tea.

            There was thankfully no comment made.

            It was hard, Neal reflected, living in another country and studying medicine with a director who didn’t give a crap that you had studied four years of surgery – _“Surgery may not save lives, Dr. Hudson. Emergency medicine does. Now tell me, have you ever held a warm hand before?”_ – and pushed you to the brink. Although his mother had told him that he should make friends, get to know his fellow residents to make connections that would help him, Neal often found that there was something that separated him from the others. The other three had grown up in sun-basking California, he in rainy and cold England. If he had stayed with his father, Neal would be an attending – a surgeon, not doing residency _again_ two oceans away from his tiny island of a country. Neal had almost laughed when he heard one of the residents whisper that maybe he was running from the British government or a James Bond – why else would someone decide to do residency, _again_? Neal had a similar thought when he was applying to the program – but anything was better than to be in the company of a man Neal didn’t understand why his mother had married, and harassed every choice he made. The resident could count of how many times on one hand of the times his father had shown him physical affection – holding his hand and hugging him perhaps as a child or a teen, but the only thing close to resemblance was of how his father had held his head firmly as Neal tried to not take the medicine when he had been very young – crying and telling his father that he just wanted to sleep. Neal had thought he had felt his father’s hands stroke his hair when his fever had finally broken, but the young doctor was certain that it was an illusion.

            _My father is not one to show weakness,_ Neal thought sourly, _especially to his so-called fool of a son._

“Hey.”

            Neal looked up from his thoughts and saw a young man wearing scrubs standing across from him. He was about the same height as Neal, his brown hair straight and short as his blue eyes stared into Neal’s dark brown briefly.

            “Mike Leighton.” His hand was held out, and Neal carefully shook it, watching the doctor’s expression. “A fourth year resident here. I just transferred here from another hospital. I hear you’re the resident who came from England, after almost becoming a full attending surgeon.” Neal nodded, expecting immediately to hear questions upon questions about his decision, or comments he did need to hear about his skill with a scalpel. “So...” Mike carefully surveyed Neal. “What do you say we grab a few drinks after this shift?”

            “What?” Neal was so surprised by the suggestion that he stared at the resident named Mike with shock. To his credit, Mike didn’t react to the fellow resident’s shock, nor did he mention on the accent. _“Do you Britons always speak what like there’s an o in there or something?”_ Some of the staff found his accent attractive, and Mama, the head RN who appeared always when Neal was not expecting it, looked at him with a slight smirk and unfortunately came up with a nickname that Neal dreaded to hear. _“It’s not my fault you’re dark, tall, and handsome.”_ The head RN grinned at the slightly scandalized expression on Neal’s face. _“Everyone likes that.”_

Some of the nurses tended to giggle when he walked by, making Neal curse at the existence of Jesse Sallander for coming up with the nickname “Dr. Handsome.” The young doctor looked across at Mike, and could see an almost waiting expression on his face.

            “Fine,” Neal relented. The other resident appeared to smile, looking back at him longer than a few seconds when the other residents realized that there was a newcomer. He didn’t realize it then, but a wistful feeling came to him at the sight of Mike talking to the residents a couple minutes later as if he had known them for years. Neither did he note Mama, or Daddy watching the older resident, a knowing expression on their faces as they recognized the emotion as loneliness.

            Neal did not know that his journey of solitude would come to an end that night, feeling his shoulder around Mike’s as the resident managed to bring him to his flat.

            _“It’s called a flat, bloody goddamn it!”_

 _“I know, Sherlock.”_ Mike had ungracefully set down Neal on his bed, half of his body leaning sideways as the American suddenly shook his head. _“I know.”_ Neal had been far too drunk to comment on Mike’s nickname for him, but when he finally did with the resident blinking at the sunlight with the slightly ruffled Mike sitting uncomfortably on the floor, the brown-haired resident shrugged. _“You came here the same year that the BCC series came out, so...”_ Laughter emerged from Mike then, sounding soft at first but increasing with intensity and volume. Soon Neal found himself laughing as well, the foreign sound from too much loneliness spilling from his mouth, both of their laughter sounding so right in that moment.

            Neal remembered too of how he had shakily stood with a tall glass of water in his hands, silently sipping the cold liquid as it eased his massive headache. The thank you he had stated to his first friend in Angles remained in his mind long after Mike had left the place that Neal came to see as his home, and the sleep-deprived smile that the resident had on his lips stayed with Neal as well long after that night. It was then that his journey of solitude had ended, and when he started to truly talk to the people he came to know as his friends, eventually calling them by their names.

         Neal had smiled inwardly when he saw Dr. Mario Savetti’s journey of solitude had ended as well, walking with Mike’s younger brother Angus. The resident had been different than him – but the loneliness that Neal had experienced was deep inside even though he suspected the young resident didn’t believe he felt solitude.

 _Our journeys of solitude ended, Mike,_ Neal thought as his thoughts returned to his friend. _Is it ironic that Mario’s and mine ended with the same people who shared the same blood?_

        With a small smile, Neal looked up at the night sky, knowing that wherever he was, his first friend was looking up too. _And someday, too, he will see Angles as home._


End file.
